Guilty Survivors
by peanut4th
Summary: They must have forgotten the date... A worried England attempts to see America, and as he has for the past eleven years and many times in the past, Canada blocks him out... Canada holds onto his brother, hoping he won't slip away... America seems lost, for he has the guilt of a survivor. 9-11 tribute.


**(In memory of 9-11. We will never forget. I do not own Hetalia.)**

He sat there, tears in his eyes. Why did he have to remember so much? Why, every year on this day, did he see the dust around him, the flames engulfing the world he saw? It was painful, and he couldn't bear it. He couldn't. Why?

He sat there, rocking back and forth. His phone was ringing. He didn't answer it. Tosay, he never answered his phone, or really even got out of bed. It hurt too much to remember, why did he always have to remember? Because that was who he was, and you can never forget the things that shape you the most.

His phone rings again. Damn. Who keeps calling him? Can't they tell he doesn't want to talk? To anyone? He can't bear it today. All he sees is debris, dust, flames, and death when he sits here. He couldn't ever, ever forget it. Why had they done this to him? What had he done to them? Was he a bad country? Had he deserved it, for being unable to protect the people that made him up? He hadn't been able to stop it...

The phone's still ringing, but he doesn't plan on moving any time soon. He's just trying to get the pictures out of his head. Finally, the person lets it go to voicemail. "America, pick up, it's your brother. I know you're there, you never go out today. I was going to be polite and ask before I came over, but if you don't pick up soon, I'm just going to have to go over there. You're worrying everyone."

Another message plays, as someone else had called while Canada was recording his message. "PICK UP THE PHONE, YOU GIT! Do you know how worried we all are? We were supposed to be having a meeting today, and you just didn't show up? You an't just skip a meeting like that!" He isn't really listening, and it is doubtful that he even remembered the meeting when he woke up. Which idiot had planned a meeting for today, anyway?

God. The flames. All those people... The destruction... He had felt vulnerable then. He thought he would be at the top of the world forever, but then, he felt like he was weak. He felt like he could be shot down easily, destroyed with the greatest of ease. Why? Why was he so weak? What could he have done to stop it?

They called him paranoid at first, something about his airports, his terror waas rampant for a while afterwords, having trouble trusting anyone. The sun attempts to peek through his window, and he closes it. He doesn't want the bright sun shining on him when everything was so WRONG.

"America-san? You haven't been answering any of our calls. Are you alright?" He wasn't alright, but they should know that. They should know that the flames... the dust... the people... what... all dead... the Pentagon... the Twin Towers... confusion...

A doorbell rings. He doesn't even hear it when his worried brother is at the door. "America? Please. I have keys, but I'd still prefer if you let me in." No answer, so he hears the door swing open, hears his twin brother walk in. "America, I made you food. You're going to have to eat; I know you haven't." He pauses. "America?" His brother walks up the stairs to see the nation hugging his knees, rocking back and forth. It nearly makes him cry. He has seen his brother like this before, but it's just wrong. How could they have done this to him, anyway? What had his brother done to deserve it?

"America. YOU HAVE TO EAT." When he still doesn't respond, still engulfed in dust and flames, Canada takes his hand and squeezes it. He looks up at him, and Canada forces him to eat. The phone rings. Canada slowly gets up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"America? Is that you?"

"No, it's Canada, his brother, remember? I went over to his house to check on him." There are tears on his eyes, and Matthew sighs. "He's not coming to the meeting."

"What do you mean he's not coming?"

"England. Do you remember today's date?" There is a silence on the other line.

"Oh..." It's not enough, but it's something. "I'll... I'll come over." Canada looks worried.

"No. He wouldn't want you to see him like this, and you don't want to see it either." England had only seen him once in this state, and that was the day of the attack. Canada had kept him out all the other days.

"He needs me!"

"England. I'm his twin br-" the line goes dead. Canada knew this happened often, but he was still upset. His eyes are still too far away, so Canada knows he didn't hear them, which is just as well. He wasn't sure how he would react if he heard that England might try to come.

So, Canada sat down and took his twin's hand, hoping to anchor him to the earth again. Maybe this year, he wouldn't stay so forlorn and devistated, he would remember how strong he was, he wouldn't still be trapped in the Pentagon, finishing work.

He was, though, in his head. Canada wished there was some better way to help him, but making him better would be a long and difficult process. Canada was supposed to be the one with feelings of self-doubt, not him! But he did doubt himself, and it killed Canada to see him like this. That was why the other nations could not see him today. He didn't want them to have to see him weakened, as opposed to strong and brave.

"CANADA! OPEN THE DOOR!" A British voice was shouting. He must have used a lot of energy getting here so quickly, but Canada wasn't going to let him in because of that. He couldn't see him like this.

"Sorry, England. On any other day, I would have let you in just for remembering my name though!" he said, trying to make a joke.

"Canada. LET ME IN." Canada gave a sad look.

"England. You don't deserve to see him like this." England was silent.

"What do you mean? Don't you mean that he doesn't deserve for me to see him like that?"

"No. I mean that, as embaressed as he might be for you to have seen him in this state, the one most harmed will be you. I'm keeping you out, just like I have for eleven years now."

As he walked upstairs, however, he heard a click. Canada nearly cursed. He had fogotten to hide the extra key so England couldn't find it. England stood in front of him, looking annoyed.

"Git. Take me to America."

He was so useless. He could hear thier voices, those people that he should help. Why wasn't he helping them? Why couldn't he, thier country, save them? What was he doing wrong? Why were these people dying? Could he trust no one? WHO HAD DONE THIS TO HIM! Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared out the window, seemingly staring into endless eternity.

England looked at him, shocked. He had only seen him like this a few times. Canada had kept him out of the area whenever he was depressed, so England had rarely seen him like this. Canada had claimed that it was a brother and a North America thing, so the others should stay out of it. So, England hadn't been prepared when he saw the unmoving, far-away figure. He looked as though he was on another plane, not really existing. A worried Canada grabs his hand.

'A- Ameri- America? Are... Are you... Okay?" He doesn't respond to England. Canada is upset by the upset and almost frightened look England had on his face. Then again, no one saw America, the bold extrovert, so introverted and alone that he wouldn't hear anyone. It was a bit frightening to think of.

"He can't hear you. He's like this every year. I don't need to hold his hand, really, but I feel like he'll fade away if I don't hold it." England nodded silently, for fear he might cry if he opened his mouth. This was what they had done to him?

"Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine tommorow. If anything, he'll have more fighting spirit than normal. Do you remember how long it took for him to get over Pearl Harbor? This will probably take just as long..." England remembered Canada's overprotective mode kicking a few times during his life, but never did he imagine he was like this.

He stared into the empty air, but all he saw was smoke and debris and fire and the people he couldn't save. Why? He had been there! Why had he frozen like that? Why couldn't he rescue anyone?

"I- I should go now..." England gave Canada a hug. "I didn't know... America's so... I don't know how to put it into words... It's..."

"It's okay, England, to say you don't know what to do. I've had to tell myself that over and over when he gets like this." Canada smiled at England, but it was a rueful smile. "We really were idiots, letting them schedual a meeting today."

"Yes..." England started to walk away, trying to tear his shaking (He was shaking? Why hadn't he noticed that...) form away from the sight of him. "Goodbye, Canada..."

"Bye, England..." As England left, Canada continued holding his hand. No change. Canada hadn't eaten much either, but he knew the next day, his brother would be America again, and take him out to eat far too much food. Today, he was not really anyone but one of the guilty survivors...


End file.
